


In the Land of Uz

by Corycides



Series: 100 Fics in 100 Days [45]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith endures...but will it last forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Land of Uz

 There was blood under Nicholas' finger nails and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He closed the dead woman's eyes and drew the sheet up over her bruised face, smoothing it down over her forehead. Her name had been Alison. She'd been 19, too young to remember the world she'd died fighting for.

He braced his hands on the edge of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. His muscles ached, scraping against his skin like they were rolled in glass, and an ice pick jabbed into his forehead with every step. He had to do it, though. His people were depending on him and it was the least he could do – since he had failed them in everything else.

Tomas was sallow and sweating, the stink of rot hanging around the roughly bandaged stumps of his legs. He still managed a smile for Nicholas.

'Think I'm a goner?' he asked, nodding to the bottle in Nicholas' hand.

Nicholas pretended not to notice the smell and sat down on the edge of the bed. He turned the bottle in his hand. The oil was grubby and smelt vaguely rancid, but it was the best he could find. God would understand. He thought. He hoped.

These aren't the Last Rites, Tom. Just...'

'In case?'

'In case,' Nicholas nodded. 'If you want it?'

A smile hooked the corner of Tomas' mouth, lips colourless and cracked. He closed his eyes. 'No,' he said. 'Me and God, we have an understanding. Either we both overlook each other's sins, or we go our separate ways.'

Nicholas nodded. A lot of people had lost their faith after the Blackout. Not immediately after, it had been easy to believe then, but when nothing else happened? When no-one ascended to Heaven except the old-fashioned way, when all the prayers in the world didn't make a stand by light flicker and the world ground on miserably instead of having the decency to just stop? It was harder to believe then.

He'd believed, though. Fresh out of seminary school, the dog collar still rubbing his neck raw, and he'd not doubted. A year, five years, ten years – it seemed an eternity to the human mind, but it was not even an eye-blink to God. Even the militia had just been another trial, a modern-day Roman Empire to harrow the faithful. His faith had been unshakeable, untroubled.

It had been prideful, he could see that now, and worse, it had been stupid. A faith that never trembled wasn't strong, it was untested.

And now it was gone, because he couldn't understand God giving power to Sebastian Monroe – of all men. Where it had been there was just a dusty hollow, where his unexamined faith had rotted out.

Yet he still rubbed injured oil in the foreheads of the dying and murmured words into the dark, not sure he believed there was anyone listening. If there was, if he'd failed God instead of God failing him, maybe He wouldn't hold the empty words of the priest against the still-faithful. Nicholas thought He wouldn't. He hoped.

'Would you mind if I prayed for you anyhow, Tom?' he asked.  
  
Tomas reached out and clutched Nicholas' hand with hot, dry fingers. 'I'd like that,' he said. 


End file.
